And then comes the shrink
by Happymood
Summary: AU Arthur doesn't want to be dumped again, and Francis doesn't want serious relationships. Only in romantic comedies they would end up falling in love, and this is not a romantic comedy... or is it? FRUK, plus other minus pairings
1. Here's Arthur Kirkland

She wanted to laugh at her twenty year old self who was so eager to help people and wanted to make a change in the world. Seriously, now that she looked back at it, it had been the most stupid idea of the world to go study psychology just to be looked up to like a hero. She should have known that it wouldn't have always been so glorious. She should have known that from time to time she would have to deal with people like the two guys she had an appointment with that very morning.

She groaned loudly and massaged her temples. Ten years of doing this job and not even a single 'Thank you'. She should ask for a raise, but she knew her boss would never allow it. Stingy, sexist bastard. She was really in need of a cigarette.

She raised her eyes and squared down the man sitting almost challengingly before her. She had told him to lay down if he wanted, and he had just raised a really bushy eyebrow at her. She wondered if she should retire and go help her mother in the farm.

"Very well…" She started with a sign and took her little block-notes out. She read the name of her patient before looking at him again, "…Mr. Kirkland."

He gave a little nod of acknowledgment, and crossed his arms over his chest. She wrote 'Angry Hedgehog' besides his name.

"What did you write?" He asked almost panicked. She just turned to look at him.

"I need to make a file of my patients, Mr. Kirkland." She said, "I just wrote down your name."

He scoffed, and slightly calmed down.

"For your information, I am not crazy." Mr. Kirkland said, "I just came here because of…" He shrugged and waved at her nonchalantly, "… well, you know very well why I am here. So, why don't we make both of us a favor and end it here?"

She smiled a little, tempted to agree, but just looked kindly at him.

"Why don't you start by telling me why you accepted to come here, then?" She said. Mr. Kirkland looked suddenly on the defense and narrowed his green eyes at her. She underlined the 'Angry' in 'Angry Hedgehog' twice.

"Alfred Fucking Jones can be quite… persuasive if he wants to be." Mr. Kirkland said, "I couldn't say no."

"Mr. Jones…" She repeated him, "I remember him well."

Mr. Kirkland laughed.

"Well, who doesn't?" He exclaimed and raised his arms above his head. "I blame him from being here, talking with a shrink!"

She purposely avoided telling him that she was just a mere psychologist. And that she was in a desperate need for a cigarette.

"Mr. Kirkland, I don't see the reason why you should blame Mr. Jones for so little."

Mr. Kirkland rolled his eyes on the ceiling.

"I am not blaming him for just _this_." He said opening his arms to emphasize his point. "I blame him for everything."

"Could you explain yourself?"

Mr. Kirkland suddenly looked doubtful. She wrote Mr. Jones' name just after the hedgehog joke.

"I really want to go back in time and make everything possible to bloody avoid him." Mr. Kirkland said crossing his arms again, but looking suddenly very sad. She wrote 'Soft spot' besides Jones' name.

"When did that happen?" She asked. Mr. Kirkland took his time answering.

"Third year in school." He said, his voice barely a whisper. "He was new in town and I thought it would be nice helping him out." He suddenly looked angry again, "You know what? He should thank me for becoming so damn popular! If it wasn't for me he wouldn't even have gotten into the football team! I did everything for him, and he never ever thanked me for it!"

"Do you hate Mr. Jones, Mr. Kirkland?" She asked.

"I-I-!" Mr. Kirkland widened his eyes at her, and then shook his head, "I would never-!"

"Then, what are your exact feelings for him?"

Mr. Kirkland suddenly shut up.

"I don't want to talk about it."

She sighed mentally and put three exclamation marks right after the 'Soft spot' phrase. Mr. Kirkland narrowed his eyes at her.

"I know what you are thinking…" He said. She tried not to smile.

"And what is that, Mr. Kirkland?"

"You think…" He said sitting a little bit straighter, "… that I love him and all that shit, but just because we used to date doesn't-!" He shut up again and became ten shades of red. She was suddenly having a good time with him.

"You used to date?" She asked professionally. He started fidgeting.

"In High School, I presume." She pressured on. This time Mr. Kirkland snorted.

"No." He spat and then looked doubtful again. "But it's because we dated that I am here talking to you." He added sarcastically, "He really should pay for these ridiculous appointments."

"He is, in fact." She admitted just to see what kind of emotion would show on Kirkland's face. He looked dumbstruck.

"H-he is?" He asked again. "Did he-! I… well…"

"Five percent of the total price." She added then. Mr. Kirkland became suddenly very red.

"That wanker." He commented. "He pisses me off!"

She considered for a long time if she had to add 'bipolar' to the list, but she opted against it.

"Tell me a little more about Mr. Jones." She said. Mr. Kirkland scoffed, but he looked more open to talk about him than he did before.

"He is a bastard." He said, "An oblivious, bubbly son of a bitch. I met him in school, as I already told you. He was cuter back then…" He looked suddenly pensive, "He is a year younger than me and back in school he listened to me all the time. I was practically his mentor. He was good in sports, I told him to apply for the football team… he obviously became a star."

"Obviously?"

Mr. Kirkland looked at her.

"Well, yeah…" He smiled a little, "He always had that kind of charm. You could either hate him or love him… sometimes both."

"Like you do?" She asked. Mr. Kirkland looked down at his nails.

"Like I do."

She patiently waited for him to continue.

"Anyway." He continued then, coughing, "I used to be his only friend, then he became popular and we started fighting a lot."

"Nevertheless, you told me you used to date."

"Not back then, no." He admitted. "I didn't find him attractive at all."

"Please go on, Mr. Kirkland." She said putting down her pen.

"I wasn't so much into men back then." Mr. Kirkland said laughing a little in embarrassment, "I mean, I was going out with Victoria."

"Was she the reason you decided to sway the other way?" She asked, knowing fully well she wasn't acting professionally at all. She decided she really needed to stop being so curious.

"No." Mr. Kirkland said as if the only thought amused him. "Even if she indeed dumped me."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Mr. Kirkland shook his head.

"No, I didn't date him after that." He cut her, "I went out with Natalie, Juana, Monica, that African girl I don't remember the name of right now, Jennifer and Nirmayi before that happened."

She raised an eyebrow at the list, and noted how some of the names sounded exotic.

"That's a lot of conquests." She commented. Mr. Kirkland looked suddenly a mixture between shy and proud of himself.

"I- well…" He shook his head, "It doesn't matter. They all dumped me." He admitted in the end. She looked at him, checked him from head to toe and didn't see anything wrong with him apart those huge eyebrows over his eyes. She decided she needed to find out why they all dumped him. Controlling type, maybe? Considering how much he liked the way Jones used to listen to him in school it wasn't farfetched. She noted it down.

"When does Mr. Jones come into the picture?" She asked instead.

"When I met him by chance as I waited for the bus." He said. She nodded, but he suddenly became pensive again.

"Mr. Kirkland?" She asked. He looked shocked.

"He asked me out!" He suddenly blurted out. "I-I mean… he had become drop dead sexy by the time we met again! We had to speak like… five years, and then he was there and- and-!"

"Please relax, Mr. Kirkland." She said trying hard not to laugh, "We are here just to talk."

"I know." Mr. Kirkland spat suddenly on the defensive again, "And I am talking! I am blaming Alfred for all the shit I had to go through in my life. He shouldn't have asked me out. I-I shouldn't have said yes, but he was so happy to see me and he is… he is so persuasive and likes having things go his way and- and-!"

She scratched the question mark from her previous statement out. A domineering type that found out he liked to be dominated for once. It sounded kinky, but she heard a lot worse.

"Was he your first man?" She asked. Mr. Kirkland looked away.

"My first relationship with a man."

Interesting.

"And?"

"He dumped me." He said then.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"And then?" She tilted her head to the side. Mr. Kirkland crossed his arms over his chest again, and crossed his legs as well.

"Then I decided that I didn't want to be dumped ever again." He said, "That, no matter what happened, my next relationship was going to be the last one. That I would even marry the next person that happened to be interested in me."

"That sounds peculiar, Mr. Kirkland." She commented.

"I know." Mr. Kirkland said. "But I was desperate."

She sighed softly and leaned against her chair.

"I suppose it is here Mr…" She searched the name in her file, but Mr. Kirkland cut her off.

"Francis Bonnefoy." He said and massaged his temples. She looked at him.

"I guess it is here Mr. Bonnefoy comes into the picture."

"I wish he was dead." Was the only thing Mr. Kirkland could say. She decided that she was in a desperate need for a cigarette.


	2. Here's Francis Bonnefoy

She really couldn't understand why the Department was sending those crazy guys over to her. She wondered if it was really possible there was no other, more interesting, case in town, or if they just didn't consider her capable enough. Either way, when Mr. Bonnefoy came in her office, sat down on the couch and crossed his legs in a way she would have described as super-sexy, she found herself not really minding at all.

She had to remind herself that those guys, Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy, were there for a reason, not a particularly good one, and that dating her patients was a really big 'no-no'. She coughed to regain her composure when Mr. Bonnefoy smiled kindly at her.

"So, Mr. Bonnefoy…" she started, because she needed to say something and not just stare.

"Please, call me Francis."

She stared. He flashed a grin, and she had to cover her blush while she scribbled down 'Sex God' next to the other's name.

"Francis, then."

Oh, my God. Was she so easy? She really should reconsider her career choices. It would take her a while to understand that Francis Bonnefoy had that kind of effect on everyone. For the time being, she felt just a little bit dizzy.

"Would you like to start?" She asked. Francis sighed and leant down on one hand, looking absolutely disappointed.

"I would have much preferred to talk with you over a nice cup of coffee."

She stared. Was he hitting on her? She quite regretted not washing her hair and not putting any make-up that morning.

"Maybe later." She said and bit the inside of her cheek, hard, because that had been unprofessional and risked to be fired if they knew. Francis didn't seem to mind. He just raised an elegant, perfect, blond eyebrow and smiled.

"Then again, such a lovely lady as you deserves more than just a cup of coffee…" he added suggestively, and she had to gulp. Okay. Breathe in. Breath out.

"Mr. Bonnefoy." She stated then because she was working and not hitting on guys at the bar.

"Francis." The other interrupted.

"Francis, then." She said and wondered if she sounded just a little bit repetitive. Francis sighed again and looked at her.

"If you don't want to go out with me, sitting here is just a big waste of my time."

She would have told him she wasn't so adverse to the idea of going out with him, but she had to stay calm and act like the psychologist she was. She wrote down 'Manipulative' on her block-notes.

"I suppose you would like to tell me why you are here in the first place." She said, avoiding the other's eyes. Francis sighed.

"Whatever Arthur said it's a big lie." Francis said. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm innocent."

"Innocent?" She repeated. Francis raised his arms in defense.

"It was his fault." Francis said, "He was the one hitting on me, suggesting we go fuck like rabbits every time we could. He is a jealous bastard. He doesn't want to share."

At that she raised both of her eyebrows.

"Since when have you been dating?" She asked.

"Dating?" he asked as if the word amused him to no end. "I am not dating Arthur."

She looked down at her notes.

"A certain…" she read the name, tried to figure out how to pronounce it, "… Gilbert Beilschmidt kindly disagrees with that."

Francis laughed.

"And what does he know about dating?" He said. "He never managed to keep a girlfriend more than two days."

"He textually said you were dating since last year, from the day you met at a common friend's wedding." She tried to reason. Francis looked shocked, but he didn't deny it. She leant a little forward and said calmly. "Would you like to talk about that?"

"About what?" Francis asked, still looking flirty but suddenly on the defense. She dutifully noted his stance on her notebook. "About my friend's wedding?"

"If you wish, Mr. Bonnefoy."

He didn't correct her this time.

"I guess it was just a big misunderstanding." He said, "I don't have a clue who married that day. I just crashed the wedding with Gilbert and Antonio."

Interesting.

"Gilbert is afraid he is going to be arrested for that." Francis said and flashed an amused grin, "But we sometimes do that. Weddings crashing, I mean. Free food and lots of alcohol."

Francis stopped suddenly talking, seemingly lost in thought.

"Please go on, Mr. Bonnefoy."

Francis remained silent for a long while.

"It had been a pretty awesome evening." He said finally. "Either the bride or the groom had been really rich, or they really wanted to give their all for a single wedding. The food was really tasty, and I got drunk in no time. Arthur was at the bar, drinking a glass of whiskey after the other. I needed to get laid, he just happened to be there."

"Do you blame alcohol for this decision?" She asked.

"Arthur would blame my libido." He said and there was something in the way he said it that she found absolutely revealing. She noted it down. Francis sighed.

"I don't know what to tell you, really." He stated then. "I don't remember much about that night. I just hit on him, offered him a drink, maybe two. He suggested we left the place and a moment later his legs were around my waist."

"You talk about it as if it is not the first time it happened…" She said, wondering if she should note down 'sex-addict'. It took her a while to decide that maybe she shouldn't be so biased.

"Fucking Arthur, or fucking strangers?" Francis asked without preambles. She remained silent.

"Oh, well. Everybody needs to let off steam from time to time." Francis said then with a smile. "But Arthur was different."

"How so?"

Francis didn't answer.

"Mr. Bonnefoy…" She started.

"Francis." He interrupted.

"Francis." She said, "Should I suppose you hit on Arthur because he was different, or because he was drunk?"

"He was drunk." Francis said, "And he is different. He is not my type, really, but I don't really have a type. Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" She asked, interested. "Have you been hurt in the past? A serious relationship gone wrong?" She tried to guess. Francis looked strangely amused.

"I don't want a relationship." He explained but not really answering her question. "Why attach yourself to only one person, when there are so many that needs you to satisfy them?"

"You never had a relationship then." She said. Francis shrugged.

"Sometimes I did, but it never meant anything."

"Nevertheless, Mr. Beilsc-!" Oh, man, that guy's name was difficult to pronounce, "Gilbert stated you dated."

"That was what Arthur wanted, but we weren't an item." Francis said, narrowing his lips. "I tried everything to get away from him, but he always crawled back to me."

"Really, Francis?"

"He is too attracted to me." Francis said, serious. She raised an eyebrow. Francis sighed. "But he really couldn't get it. I want no relationship. He even asked me to marry him! It had been so awkward! I didn't know what to do!"

"Is that why-!" She tried to say. Francis waved nonchalantly at her.

"Oh, no, no. That's not the reason we must undergo this." He said with an amused smile. "That happened three months ago."

"Then?"

"I said no, of course. Why would I marry a barbarian like him?"

"No, I mean." She was a little confused, "Wouldn't he understand you weren't interested in him, if you turned him down?"

"I think he doesn't remember." Francis said, "He was drunk that evening too."

Go figures.

She wrote 'alcoholic' next to Mr. Kirkland's name.

* * *

"He said what?" Mr. Kirkland exclaimed. "I hit on him? Me? I am not the one that followed him around like a puppy though all the wedding reception! I was minding my own business that night. I was drinking to my bloody luck! Another friend of mine finding his soul mate and me, there, dumped by everyone! No, that wanker came to me and started talking to me! I wanted him gone, but he kept telling me idiocies, trying to woo me all evening long. Then I remembered I wanted a relationship and- and-!"

"And you flirted back?"

Mr. Kirkland didn't answer. He just became tomato red. She sighed. She couldn't understand what was going on.

"Was your craving for a relationship so much that you wanted to marry him?"

Mr. Kirkland's eyes became wide as saucers.

"Marry him?"

She didn't talk, and Arthur stood suddenly up.

"He told you I wanted to marry him, didn't he?" He spat, "That bloody son of a bitch! I will kill him!"

"Calm down, Mr. Kirkland. Francis didn't-!" She tried to reason. Arthur narrowed his eyes at her.

"He got you too?" He asked, "He does that. He pretends to be really cool, but he is a bastard inside. Before you ask, no I didn't propose to him. _He_ did."

"He did?"

"Yes." Arthur said smugly. "I turned him down, of course. Why would I marry a barbarian like him?"

"Were you drunk?"

"Because I said no?" He asked raising an eyebrow. She sighed. She really should stop acting unprofessionally.

"No, Mr. Kirkland. I didn't mean that."

"No, I get it." Arthur said sarcastically. "Anyway, _he_ was the one drunk. One evening he just kneeled and asked me to marry him."

She stared at him and looked down at her notes.

Things looked really complicated. Maybe a serial murderer would have been easier to deal with.


	3. To the police

He slammed the papers loudly on the desk and then stared at the young chestnut haired man sitting in front of him. He had a stupid expression on his face, that boy, and, man, wasn't that a sign this wasn't going to end well? He wanted to go home to his sister and sleep the day away, but he couldn't. His boss has handed that job down to him and he always liked to be the responsible one.

So he said:

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

The man blinked at him and smiled. Smiled! He seriously wanted to punch the other on the face for wasting his time like that.

"That's my name." The man said. He groaned.

"Okay, I want to be here much less than you do, so spill the beans and let's get over this real soon."

Carriedo just blinked at him and shrugged.

"I don't really know what to say."

He seriously wanted to punch the other on the face twice. He raised an eyebrow instead.

"You don't know?" He asked, quite sarcastically, "You are a witness, you were there, you should know."

"I was there." Carriedo said, "But I am innocent. I just happened to be there because Lovino was there. Or maybe Lovino was there because I was there…?" Carriedo seemed confused, "I don't know what to say."

"Lovino…" He repeated shuffling through his papers to see where he had seen that name before. He found the file he was searching for and raised an eyebrow again. "Is he your cousin?"

Carriedo actually giggled. He felt his patience run short, and they have just started… great.

"This is not the time to giggle." He said, emphasizing the last word with an annoyed quirk of his lips, "You are in the presence of a police officer, and a man is in the hospital in a coma. I want a clear explanation, write the report and then go home."

Carriedo finally turned serious again.

"Well, he brought the wrong pizza…" Carriedo started. He raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"The delivery guy." Carriedo said.

"Hmm…" He looked down at his files again, "The man in a coma."

"Yes."

"So you are telling me he is in the hospital because he brought the wrong pizza?"

"Well…" Carriedo shifted embarrassed in his seat, "He doesn't have a lot of patience."

"The man in a coma?" He asked. It didn't make any sense.

"Maybe, I don't know." Carriedo said, "I mean, I don't know the guy. Maybe he is not as patient either."

"Carriedo…" He warned. Carriedo nodded.

"That's my name, but you can call me Antonio."

He groaned. Carriedo nodded again.

"Anyway, I was talking about Lovino."

"Lovino." He repeated. Carriedo nodded again. They stared at each other for a long time before he ran a hand through his blond hair and said:

"I don't understand."

"At the pizza place they probably didn't understand either." Carriedo said, "Lovino ordered a simple Margherita, but the delivery boy brought one with pepperoni, and Lovino doesn't love pepperoni so much… and, you know, everybody was a little bit upset, and Lovino can't take the stress so well and, yeah… you know."

"No, I don't." He almost barked. "Care to explain what that has to do with the delivery boy being in a coma?"

"Lovino didn't mean it."

"Mean what?"

"Throw that pot at him." Carriedo clarified, "It was an accident! I mean, Lovino always misses me when he throws pots at me!" Carriedo started panicking, "He is not going to prison, is he?"

"Not if the guy wakes up again." He said, serious. "But even if he does, the guy will surely sue Lovino for what he went through."

"I don't understand." Carriedo said. He groaned.

"Is Lovino always so…" He searched for the right word, "…murderous?"

"No." Carried promptly said, "He is usually really cute."

He wondered if Carriedo thought this Lovino was cute when he throws pots at him, but he decided not to enquire further. He noted down that this Lovino could be a really dangerous person, and kept the interrogation going.

"So, what is your relationship with the suspects?"

"You mean Francis?" Carriedo asked. He checked the name in his files.

"Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland." He said. Carriedo sighed.

"Arthur Kirkland is not my friend." He said.

"Still, you were all hanging out in his apartment." He noted sarcastically looking down at his files again.

"I was there because Francis was there." Carriedo said.

"I thought you said you were there because Lovino was there."

"No, no." Carriedo shook his head, "Lovino was with me. I went there because Francis was there and he was going to do something stupid."

"I am aware of that." He said, "So Francis Bonnefoy is your friend?"

"I consider him family." Carriedo said.

"What about Gilbert Beilschmidt?" He asked. "He is a witness too."

"Is he here?" Carriedo asked.

"He is being interrogated as well as we talk." He answered, "But this is not the point. Counting you, there were four other people at the time we broke into Mr. Kirkland's house. Mr. Kirkland textually said you weren't invited, so don't start feeding me lies of you having parties together, because I am not going to buy it."

"Gilbert and I are Francis' friends." Carriedo said, and he was suddenly hopeful the guy was going to finally cooperate. "Since forever, I think. I mean, I know Francis since kindergarten… Gilbert came later into the picture, but we hit it off almost immediately… well, not immediately immediately, but…"

His hopes vanished in an instant.

"Carriedo."

"Antonio, if you please."

"We are not chatting over tea. This is serious business." He spat, losing his nerve.

"I never stated the contrary."

"Well, then." He slammed his fist on the table, "Will you finally tell me why the neighbors called the police, afraid someone was going to murder someone else, complaining about the continuous shouting, why there were knives involved and a man is right now in a coma?"

"I explained the last bit."

"And you did it so flawlessly, I am jealous of your abilities." He spat sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"You should ask Arthur!" Carriedo said raising his arms in the air. "He started it!"

"Are we back in kindergarten, Mr. Carriedo?"

"Back in kindergarten we didn't have sex, and here sex is involved… I mean, Francis just wanted that, and Arthur wanted a relationship. Kids don't want relationships, so we definitely aren't back in kindergarten."

"Are you fucking with me?" He shouted slamming his fist on the table again. Carriedo seemed absolutely oblivious.

"What?"

"I could arrest you if I wanted to." He threated, but Carried just looked clueless.

"I was there to help!"

"In what way?"

Carriedo had the nerve to sigh. Sigh!

"Francis was going to do something extremely stupid." He said then, "He called me and told me his plan, which wasn't a good one, mind you, and I was with Lovino in that moment, so I did what I thought was right and dragged Lovino with me to stop Francis from ending his life!"

He was shocked.

"Did Mr. Bonnefoy talk about committing suicide?"

Carriedo laughed.

"No, it was worse."

"In what way?"

Carriedo stared at him for a long, silent moment.

"Well?"

Carriedo's eyes snapped back to him and he looked as if he didn't know what was going on.

"I don't like Arthur, but…" he bit his lips, "…Francis wanted to marry him, and this, my friend, is the worst thing Francis could have done."

He stared at Carriedo for a silent moment and then sighed loudly. He stood up and opened the door, motioning his vice to bring them a coffee. This was going to take a while…


	4. The cake

"I think I realized that things weren't going to end well when The Cake happened…"

"The cake?"

Francis Bonnefoy nodded; his serious expression making her heart beat a little faster. The bastard, she thought, no wonder he is in this position right now. The charm the other emanated made her feel self-conscious and for the slightest of moments she hated him from the bottom of her heart. It didn't last long, though. The mentioning of cakes was enough to make her forget she was developing a soft crush/hate for the man sitting before her.

"The cake?" She repeated, considering the other had fallen silent as if he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Francis abruptly turned to look at her. He looked shocked, as if he couldn't believe he was sitting there, with a shrink, talking about cakes. Well, no wonder. She couldn't believe it either.

"Mr. Bonnefoy?" She tried again. He smiled.

"Well, Madam, The Cake wouldn't have been such a problem if I had been the one baking it." He said, the air of flamboyancy and arrogance back on him in an instant. "But let me start from the beginning again…"

"Please do, Mr. Bonnefoy." She said and sat more comfortably in her chair.

"It had been a perfect night. I hadn't drunk much alcohol, or, at least, not enough to make me forget what had happened and who I bedded than night. The wedding reception had been great, and to find someone as willing as Arthur had been the icing on the cake. He followed me to my apartment, I offered him wine, he accepted, and then he took all his clothes and… well, I don't need to explain the rest." He nudged his eyebrows, she just sighed. "Well, anyway. He wasn't the best lay I ever had. He wanted me to do all the work, and, frankly, he was cold as an ice cube, but it had been fun, pleasurable, and I didn't mind doing it one or two times more.

"That night he didn't tell me his name, and neither did I. We were complete strangers, and I liked it that way. The morning after I had to go to work, and I was sure he had to go back home too, so I never would have expected him to be _there_ the morning after."

* * *

"You want to hear what exactly happened that night when we first met? Well, the only thing I remember is being desperate. Three months had passed since… since A-Alfred dumped me, and it was too soon for me to know that there were people in this world that were l-loved.. I mean, not that I care if no one loves me, but… well… that there are people not dumped all the time. I mean. What the hell, fuck it. That wedding invitation just reminded me that there are people in this world that are not dumped, and I thought of Alfred, of how I l-loved being with him, and… and taking him for granted… oh, fuck it. I was _just_ desperate. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. I know that I am not that handsome, but still. A-Anyway. I was minding my own business when Francis came to me, offering drinks and stuff. As I told you, he was really persuasive. I tried to push him away all night, but he kept on coming back and then… then I wondered if I wanted that kind of person in my life. I mean, someone who is so stubborn that he would do anything to make a relationship work. Listening to me right now makes me realize what an idiot I had been. Francis wasn't and he will never be that kind of guy. He is just a wanker. A son of a bitch. A bloody wh-!"

"Arthur, please!"

"Yes. Err… back to the point… I guess. He took me to his apartment. He offered me wine, and I drank it because I didn't want to remember what an idiot I had been the day after. It didn't work, though, because I remember every minute of it. He was… good. I mean, moderately good. Average. I had better. Personally, I think he is too eager. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is I didn't have to work the day after and so I decided to stay. Don't look at me like that. I wanted to know him. We didn't know each other at all! Bloody hell, I didn't even know that git's name back then either. If I wanted him to be my partner forever I had to start from somewhere, right?"

* * *

"So I woke up and he was there. Well, not in my bed, but he was in the bathroom, taking a shower. It took me a while to realize what was going on, and I wondered if he was just the type of guy who takes things slow, tells you 'Hey! I had fun! See you around' and just disappears afterwards. I tried to be patient, and to be a good host, I even prepared coffee for both. I will spare you the details, but it had been the most awkward morning-after conversation I ever had! We didn't know what to say. I tried, of course, to make the first move and I told him my name. He told me his, and I casually let him know that I had to go to work that day."

* * *

"Breakfast had been a torture. We just stared at each other for what seemed like eons, before I swallowed my embarrassment and told him my name. He tried to be a good host and prepared coffee for both of us. I hate coffee, but I didn't tell him that. When he finally presented himself I seriously thought this was going somewhere… that maybe it wasn't just one-night stand, but then he dropped the bomb. He asked me if I was going to stay for there long, because he had to go to work. It was like a slap on the face. Okay, I understand that he needed to leave, but the _way _he said it! It was like he-! Oh, fuck it. I don't think I am to blame if we started fighting right then… I don't remember what I said exactly, but it escalated into a fight almost too quickly. I think I broke a cup, but I am not sure. If I did, I don't regret it a bit."

* * *

"He threw a cup at my head. I don't even remember why we started fighting. It just happened. Every fight with Arthur just happens, actually. He became red with fury, and he threw the cup at me. It crashed into the wall behind me and I stared at it for so long, I didn't even realize Arthur had stormed off. Do you want to know a secret? It aroused me. The way Arthur was angered so quickly turned me on. Of course, on the other hand, I was shocked he had tried to kill me, but he hadn't, so I let it pass. I went to work and returned back to my usual routine. I didn't even know where the guy lived or what he did for a living, so I forgot about him almost immediately."

* * *

"I couldn't forget about him. I wondered if it was my character that made people dump me, so I decided that I should try to make amends. I remembered where he lived. Actually, it wasn't that far from where I live, and it was easy for me to find the way back. I let him wallow in self-pity for what he had said to me for a couple of days, and then I decided to bring him a cake I baked to start things over. I am a really good cook, I have to say. Scones are my specialty, but I bake pretty delicious cakes too. I prepared one and brought it to him. I had forgotten about the fight almost immediately. You know, I don't keep grudges for that long."

* * *

"Two weeks later he rang the doorbell. Two weeks, can you imagine? I was completely shocked to see him with what seemed like a cake on my doorstep. He looked embarrassed, that much is certain, and the blush on his cheeks was adorable. He looks like a little bunny when he is like this. I loved it, so of course I let him in. It was awkward. I wondered if he wanted to poison me. He found the idea completely ridiculous and cut a slice of cake for each. I don't know what he was trying to do, I don't know why he baked that cake and came back to me. I don't fucking know how he remembered where I lived, actually! I wondered if I had to go to the police and sue him for stalking, and after I ate his cake I wondered if I should go to the police and sue him for stalking and poisoning!"

"Poisoning, Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"You have no idea. I don't know what he had done, or what he had put in that damned cake, but it was simply disgusting. I tried to be a gentleman and pretend to like it, but I have no control over my own vomit. Sorry… I am being too straightforward, Madam?"

"No, please go on, Mr. Bonnefoy."

"Arthur was shocked. Of course he was. He ate another piece and told me it was fine, that maybe I had a fever and it wasn't The Cake's fault. It took me a while to recover. He drove me to the hospital, all the while pissed off that I kept blaming his cooking for that. We fought all the way. I had a stomachache so I don't know if I put up the fight well, but still… I think I was in the right.

"Arthur stayed with me all day long. It had been actually nice of him, now that I think about it, but back then I thought he was just waiting for the right moment to finish me off. He offered to cook dinner that night for me, I obviously declined."

* * *

"He probably had gastroenteritis or something, the bastard. The cake was delicious, thank you very much. Nothing happened to me, for instance, but he kept blaming me. He told me I was trying to kill him and that I was a murderer or something. I proved to him that I was not by staying with him even if I had other things to do. Okay, I didn't. But the point remains.

When we returned back to his apartment, he was pale as a bed sheet. I offered him dinner, but he probably didn't feel very well to eat anything else that day. I didn't pressure him."

* * *

"He pressured me. He made a disgusting soup that made my stomachache worse. I kept spitting it out and he kept trying to spoon feed me. I felt like the hero in a horror movie! You know, the bad, crazy guy tying the hero up and torturing him in every way? I wondered if Arthur wanted to cut my legs next.

But it got worse than that. Arthur actually offered to cook for me every day until I got better. He was obviously trying to kill me, so I did what was in my best interest and told him that I was fine, I felt great actually, and that if he wanted to taste some real cuisine he should let me cook diner next time."

* * *

"He invited me to diner."

"You look shocked."

"I was shocked! I didn't think he wanted us to be more than a casual one-night stand. I set my mind that he was going to be the one, then. Even if he is a sex-driven bastard with the intelligence of a potato. He wanted me to date him, so I accepted."

"You regret this…"

"Of course, I do. He just wanted me for sex, after all."

* * *

"I realized Arthur was so desperate he could be a good lay whenever the urges hit me. That's all I saw in it, actually. That's all I want from him still."


End file.
